


the only way he knows how

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: Tumblr Stuff [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Drama, Coda, Episode: s15e07 Last Call, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Makin' their way,The only way they know how,That's just a little bit more than the law will allow.(Dukes of Hazard)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lee Webb/Dean Winchester
Series: Tumblr Stuff [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/555322
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	the only way he knows how

It’s around 2:30 when one of the pauses in their conversation stretches again.  
Their eyes meet, gazes flit away, and Dean remembers that game all too well. It’s like not a single day had passed since they played it. In the car when John stepped out to take a leak, in the backs of shady bars where nobody would see, in the middle of fights. Lee’s brow would lift just a little, and Dean would try to stare him down, and the corner of Lee’s mouth would quirk the slightest bit, and Dean would sigh and hang his head and fight not to smile. 

When Dean looks over at Lee, there it is.

  
 _How about we find a place to fuck_?, his brow asks, and Dean stares his resolute _No, not here_ , and Lee’s mouth quirks its _As if you don’t want it just as much as I do_ , and Dean – Dean is unsure for a minute. He shouldn’t want to, with everything hanging in the balance, and God on their heels and the world about to end, and Cas… - well, Cas.  
  
On the other hand.  
  
He sighs and hangs his head. Yeah, he wants it, with every booze-hazy cell of his body he wants it. He wants to be touched for once without the intent to hurt. He wants be close to another person without the need to hide who he is.  
  
Lee stands, downs his last shot, and puts his glass down on the table. He takes the empty bottle and beelines for the back of the bar, obviously deeming a booze rum enough of a cover story.  
  
Dean’s back pops with a pitiful sound when he stands. A storage room might become a challenge, but his blood is pooling low in his belly and careful tendrils of anticipation coil around his spine. He missed that feeling.  
  
Lee waits for him just behind the door that Dean shoves shut as soon as he enters. 

For a moment, they just look at each other. He sees the signs of his own age reflected on Lee’s body, fine lines around the eyes and the mouth, a softer stomach, the muscles grown into a solid bulk.  
  
He expects to be shoved against the door, urgent like they used to meet, hands gripping and tearing at clothes, mouths and tongues seeking, hints of teeth and rough breathing.  
  
What he gets is tenderness, and he doesn’t know…  
  
Lee takes his face into his hands and dives in for a slow kiss, no hesitation, but no rush either. Dean melts into the kiss, lets his guarded shoulders drop, drinks in the softness of the moment.  
  
Their breaths smell of the same whiskey, their hands bear the same callouses, their bodies know each other still. Dean knows the spot under Lee’s ear and how to lick it. Lee knows how Dean likes his chest to be touched. They each remember the heft and the mechanics of their dicks, and how to get each other to the brink with a few strokes. It takes a little longer now, they’re not twenty anymore, but they get there, and halfway through, Dean realizes he’s crying.  
  
Lee holds him closer. “You have to think about yourself sometimes,” he whispers against Dean’s temple, and Dean comes, tears streaking down his face, dripping into the mess on Lee’s hands. He shudders through the orgasm or through a sob who knows, shakes off Lee’s arms that want to soothe him.  
  
He drops to his knees instead, a puppet with its strings cut. He doesn’t want to think about how much he feels like Lee is right and how much he resents himself for that feeling, so he pushes it down, concentrates on the task at hand and wraps his lips around Lee’s cock, the first he ever had inside him.  
  
And isn’t it fitting, to kneel here and blow his first love, while he doesn’t even know where his current one is. Bad decisions, bad timing, bad luck – Dean has known them all, but never just like he knows them with Cas. And now Cas is ruining even this from wherever he is without even knowing how much his absence cuts Dean open with every second it goes on.  
  
Dean still knows how to do this, even after years without practice. He lets his thoughts become quiet, lets his muscle memory take over. Lee comes all over his face with a grunt. Dean doesn’t feel the usual high that comes with it, the surge of adrenaline that he gets from being used and making others feel good.  
He stays on the ground until a wet towel is handed to him and a warm hand lands on his shoulder.  
  
“You could have said you aren’t into it, you know?” Lee’s voice drifts down to him as if from another room, another life.  
  
“I was,” Dean croaks. He wipes his face, harder than necessary. “Believe me, it’s a surprise for me, too. How fucked up I really am.”  
  
“I told you and I tell you again, there’s no use playing the martyr for the whole world. You deserve happiness, too, Dean. And whoever you think you’re protecting with denying it yourself might agree with me.” 

Dean looks up at Lee, who still knows him better than he has any right to. It would be so easy to stay here for a while, enjoy the nights at the bar and swap old stories until the sun comes up. He could have a break.  
  
He comes to his feet slowly. His knees ache from the cold concrete floor. His jaw hurts. His eyes burn. If there’s a place where he might find peace someday, it’s not here.   
  
“Let’s solve this case.” The discussion is over. He saw the thing he wants this morning, in their kitchen, and he ain’t ever gonna get it. Might as well keep doing what he does best.  
  
What he does best turns out to be killing his oldest friend.  
  
What he does best is failing his brother and having him almost die while he was out getting smashed in a bar.  
  
What he does best finally seeing Cas again and being unable to form a single word of what he needs to tell him.  
  
Lee’s advice echoes through his mind and Dean stands a little straighter. Fucked up to listen to the voice of your dead friend, the one you put to the ground with your own hands and buried in a scrapyard in the middle of nowhere, but well. Another day in the life of Dean Winchester. 

But maybe it’s time to change that.   
  
Maybe it’s time to fight for himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [procasdeanating on tumblr](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/189532083736/the-only-way-he-knows-how-15x07-coda-sad-smut). Come say Hi!


End file.
